Page:Paradise lost by Milton, John.djvu/118

112 Chose freely what it now so justly rues.— Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite dispair? Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven. Oh, then, at last relent! Is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left?— None left but by submission; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue The Omnipotent. Ay me! they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vain, Under what torments inwardly I groan. While they adore me on the throne of Hell, With diadem and sceptre high advanced, The lower still I fall, only supreme In misery; such joy ambition finds.— But say I could repent, and could obtain By act of grace my former state—how soon Would highth recall high thoughts! how soon unsay What feigned submission swore! Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void—